anamnesis
by Lupin
Summary: Four reunions that might have happened. Set during and after Side B.


_Written for giethe in the weiss_kreuzmas LJ fic exchange. Separate AU timelines, set in and after Side B; the first section is a reference to chapter 32 of the Side B manga, but the settings of the rest are fairly indeterminate._

**anamnesis (four reunions that might have happened)**

_(echoes)_

It's not that Aya believes in luck or fate or anything as meaningful as that. Aya doesn't believe in much anymore. So there's no explanation for why, in the hours before that evening's mission, he finds himself in their makeshift surveillance room, linking up to the listening device that was planted in the bouquet.

The headphones crackle to life. Aya is not expecting anything, is not allowing himself to expect anything - yet there it is, cutting through the static and the background chatter: a voice that shouldn't be familiar but is.

The shock hits with all the sudden, foreign violence of a blade to the chest. He recognises that voice. Of course he recognises that voice. But it belongs to another lifetime, its easy cadence entirely out of place in England; in the tenative present that Aya has made for himself with Kryptonbrand.

_He sounds happy,_ Aya thinks, then feels silly for thinking it. It doesn't matter, of course. Itou Ryou is a civilian, and if he is on holiday in England, that has no bearing on Kryptonbrand's affairs. His hand lingers on the dial, guiltily.

And then, a woman's voice: "Youji-"

Aya cuts the link quickly, almost in reflex; remotely disables the device before he can reconsider the action. Later he will look back at this and judge the decision as impulsive, irrational. For now he sits back, removes the headphones, and waits for his racing heart to slow.

He tells himself that it might mean nothing. So Itou Ryou has reclaimed a name from the past - well, that might be all he managed to recall. There is no reason to suspect otherwise.

There are other possibilities, if Aya would allow himself to consider them. Maybe Itou Ryou remembers more. Maybe the reason for his visit is less benign than a honeymoon. Maybe Itou Ryou no longer exists, and Kudou Youji-

No: it doesn't matter. He is part of Kryptonbrand now, and they have a mission tonight, and the voice he heard merely belonged to a ghost from the past. Aya is accustomed to those, at least.

He walks away. In the days that follow, he will come to believe that he has forgotten.

* * *

><p><em>(coincidence)<em>

After the mission, life goes on, as it always does. There is something comforting about returning to the mundanity of flowershop duty, where the challenges are no larger than the name of a foreign bloom or the cost of a particularly elaborate bouquet. If it reminds Aya of anything, well, he doesn't acknowledge it. He has a new life now: England, Kryptonbrand, teammates whose languages are not his own. And so he strips thorns off roses, measures lengths of ribbon, takes comfort in the murmur of foreign accents around him.

Until the shop door opens, the same way it has so many times this afternoon, and a piece of Aya's past walks in.

Ken isn't on duty, which is just as well. Michel is already talking to the couple in his halting Japanese; Aya forces himself to look away, picks up a carnation and continues his flower arrangement. Another carnation. A sprig of baby's breath. From his position behind the counter, he can hear snatches of the conversation: Michel's childish lilt, a woman's laugh, and a voice from what seems like a lifetime ago.

Fern fronds. A tulip, an iris - Aya realises, with some surprise, that his hands are shaking. He puts down the flower shears.

"Hey."

Aya looks up, and into a painfully familiar gaze. "May I help you?"

"We're just getting these daffodils, thanks. I think your colleague said it would be... three pounds fifty?"

As he hands over the change, Aya has an irrational urge to reach out and touch Youji, confirm his presence: real, alive, _here_.

It's a ridiculous notion. He smiles instead, gives the stock line: "Hope to see you again."

He doesn't, but he tells himself it's just as well.

* * *

><p><em>(recidivism)<em>

Sunset comes early in autumn: by five p.m. the streetlights are lit, warm beacons amidst the settling darkness. It's a crisp November evening in one of those rare lulls between missions, and Aya - closing the shop alone - expects only to return to the house for dinner with the others. His breath mists in the air as he slides the key home.

"Hey, Aya. It's been a while."

For one ludicrous moment, Aya finds himself caught between whirling round and locking the shop door. He fumbles the key out of the lock, turns - and takes half a step back despite himself, unwilling to believe what he sees.

"Oh, come on. Is that all? No delighted greeting? Not so much as a handshake for an old friend?" The man grins. Even in the dim light of evening, the expression is familiar. "You can say it, you know. My name. Go on: 'Youji'."

In this moment, the worn metal of the shop's key is the only thing that seems real. Aya feels his fingers tighten over it, curling into a fist. The past never stays dead. He'd thought it would be different, this time: he'd thought that one of them, at least, would have been able to escape.

"You weren't supposed to remember. You were supposed to be happy," Aya says. It comes out as an accusation. "You _were_ happy-"

"Yeah. Note the past tense." Youji steps closer. He hasn't got his sunglasses on. Aya looks into his eyes and isn't sure what he sees.

"You can still go back, Youji." The name feels strange as he says it, as if he should choke it back down instead; saying it is an admission of defeat, an acknowledgement that Itou Ryou could not get his happy ending. "Lead a normal life. It's not too late."

"That's what Omi said. Or 'Mamoru', I guess. But that kid's always been optimistic, you know? Took me ages to get the information from him. 'Don't do it, Youji-kun.' _Youji-kun_. God, how long has it been-"

"Too long." Aya can feel the past pulling him back, a wire snare around his throat. "Weiss-" why is the word so hard to say? "-doesn't exist anymore. Not for us."

"I wish it didn't," Youji says. "I've wished so fucking much that it didn't. But it still does, you know?" He laughs, a harsh and bitter sound. "Aya, I had amnesia for months, and even that wasn't enough. I recovered - well, that's one way of looking at it, anyway. I _remember_, now."

There's a note in Youji's voice that might almost be pleading. Aya tries not to look away.

* * *

><p>There are things Youji could say. <em>I thought you and Ken would be glad to see me again. I'm useful in a flowershop, you know that. Omi figured I'd be safer in your care than running around Japan by myself.<em> Some of them might even approach an explanation: _The nightmares are going to happen anyway, I might as well keep them going. I don't deserve her. I thought you said you'd be waiting for me - remember that, Aya?_

_I remember how it feels, you know, the tension of the wire in my hands, the way it tightens-_

_Did you think I could stay there, Aya, after everything that's happened?_

This isn't the reunion Youji had expected. This isn't the _Aya_ he had expected. When he was watching from the shadows earlier, there was something in the complacent ease of Aya's movements that seemed foreign, out of place. Now, too, there's an emotion in those eyes which Youji can't quite place-

Ah, wait. He recognises it now.

Aya's happy here.

The realization makes Youji want to laugh, or cry, or something appropriately hysterical. That look in Aya's eyes is the not-quite-fear of someone who sees their pleasant existence interrupted. _Should have seen it coming,_ Youji thinks. Of the four of them, Aya had always been best at surviving. And here he was, having managed to start anew in a fresh flowershop and a distant land; having managed, despite everything, to find peace in a blood-soaked existence.

Belatedly, Youji wonders if he should never have come. It was pure selfishness on his part, of course. Better to go insane amongst old comrades than alone in Japan - that was the plan, right? He hadn't counted on Aya having a cheerful domestic assassin life in England.

"Youji. Please. You don't need to do this."

_I do,_ Youji thinks. _You don't know how much I do._

Aya looks oddly defeated. Youji wants to ask if this reunion is that horrible, if Aya had really never wanted to see him again. He thinks, wryly, that he already knows the answer.

There are so many things he could say. He smiles, instead. What else can he do?

"Don't you remember, Aya? I never learn."

* * *

><p><em>(chance meeting)<em>

Never mind how it happens. The point is: it happens.

"Wait," the man says. "Wait, I- I know you." He reaches out, clutches Aya's wrist, fingers on bare skin. Aya tries not to flinch; fails.

"I've never seen you before," Aya says curtly, or as curtly as he can. Beneath the initial shock, something close to panic is rising in his chest. _This isn't supposed to happen,_ he thinks, and is not sure what he means. He pulls away-

Or tries to, at least. The man's grip is too strong; Aya thinks of wires, and wants to laugh.

"_Aya_," the man says, with something like wonderment in his voice. "You're him, aren't you? Please, surely you remember me-"

He steps closer. Aya's breathing quickens. _You're mistaken,_ he wants to say. _Let me go._

Or, _You don't want to know me._

Or, _Please don't remember._

He could walk away, easily. Or run. He could give this man- no, no, say it, _Youji_- he could give Youji the slip within minutes. Let Youji return to his comfortable amnesiac existence, with a wife and a normal job and the easy everyday happiness that none of them ever had a chance to savour.

Youji swallows, his gaze flicking nervously across Aya's face. "Help me remember."

There's a spark in those green eyes that Aya recognises, a light he thought had died long before Kudou Youji disappeared. He reaches out, places a hand on Youji's shoulder. Through the thin cotton shirt, he can feel the other man's muscles tense beneath his touch. _Maybe-_ he thinks; and then pauses, afraid to go on. A hundred possible futures unfold.

"I want this," Youji says. His grip on Aya's wrist relaxes, tightens again.

Aya nods, not daring to speak.

Everything starts there.


End file.
